


Unexpected Gifts

by just_kiss_already



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non Consensual, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/just_kiss_already
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charley gets injured and Jerry finds him, broken and bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Gifts

Fright Night 2011 fanfic

Jerry/Charlie  
Non/dub-con

Based on the prompt here: <http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html?thread=269774#t269774>

————

Takes place after meeting Jerry, pre-Adam’s house. At school, Ed didn’t mention what he suspects, so Charley is totally unaware of his neighbor’s true nature. I happen to love a totally unprepared Charley.

——————-

The lights of Jerry’s truck slide across the front of his house as he pulls in the driveway, piercing the bluish darkness. He hadn’t been gone long, just a quick trip to the hardware store before it closed to get washers. The lights hit the front of the garage as he gropes for the remote, but his hand freezes. Something long and dark is huddled there in front of the garage and, as he watches, it squirms, a hand scrabbling weakly on the cement.

Shutting the car off, Jerry flies out of the truck towards the figure. He’d killed all the victims he had in the rooms, but it could be one of his newborns from the basement, and that won’t do at all.

He freezes when he sees what it is. Charley, bloody and broken, looking like nothing so much as a pile of disjointed twigs. He’s alive, no danger of death, Jerry can smell the blood pumping wildly in the boy’s veins. He finds he’s unwilling to approach, as if this is some kind of elaborate trap; Jerry’s eye dart all around, trying to check for prying eyes. It’s late enough that people are either asleep or at work, but this… This is just too… And only hours after meeting the kid for the first time.

“Jerry…?” The voice is confused and weak, and Jerry simply can’t resist any longer. The smell drifting towards him, all that blood, he can feel his fingers lengthening, feel his teeth sharpening. He has to get it under control.

With each quick step the smell gets stronger, overwhelming. His mouth is watering, he loves when they’re pliable.

Crouching next to the boy, he surveys the damage. “Hot damn, kiddo, what happened?”

Charley is struggling to prop himself up; without thinking, Jerry wraps an arm around his shoulder, helping him, and getting blood all over himself in the process. Looks like Charley’s arm is pretty busted open, it’s still leaking all over the place.

“A car… I was walking to a friend’s, they hit me… Found my address is my wallet… They dropped me at the wrong place… Fuck…”

Jerry wants to laugh, he hopes his expression is remaining neutral. This is too precious, too perfect. If there was a god, he apparently was quite fond of Jerry. “Let’s get you inside,” he says, trying hard not to leer.

Luckily nothing appears to be broken. Charley’s able to hobble into the house with his arm slung around Jerry’s shoulders, wincing with every step. Jerry knows he’s holding on too tight around the kid’s chest, but his greediness and desire is starting to become unmanageable. He’s not going to be able to hold out much longer at this kind of proximity.

He deposits Charley on the couch and stands back, at once trying to see how extensive the injuries are while working furiously at remaining calm. The boy is shifting slightly, eyes watering, groaning in clear agony.

“Can you take off the top shirt?” Jerry asks as he walks towards the kitchen. He doesn’t have any first aid kits or, hell, even bandages, why would he need them? But at least some wet towels to wipe the blood off might help. “Let’s check out the damage.”

In the bathroom as he runs the water, getting it comfortably warm, Jerry can no longer take it. He greedily licks at the blood on his arm, letting it smear all over his mouth, his chin, his nose. Even cold it’s fucking wonderful. Once that’s gone, he absentmindedly sucks at his t-shirt while soaking a couple of washcloths. He’s getting aroused, he can feel it pressing against the confines of his jeans. A quick adjustment to shift his uncomfortable erection, a quick check in the mirror to wipe off any remaining gore, then back to the living room.

Charley’s managed to carefully pull his flannel shirt off, revealing a nasty cut on his arm that looks deep. From what he can see, the other cuts looks fairly shallow, lucky for Brewster. The effort of taking the shirt off much have been excruciating because Charley simply lays there, panting, one leg trailing on the floor. He doesn’t even bother to sit up when Jerry starts wiping him down, just follows the man’s movements with lidded eyes, the pupils blown wide with adrenaline and pain.

Taking a clean, dry washcloth, Jerry waits a minute, catching Charley’s eye, before pressing it to the bigger wound to apply pressure. Charley yowls, throwing his head back, revealing that long skinny neck. Jerry’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Can you hold this against your arm? We need to try to stop the bleeding.” Jerry stops washing the kid’s other wounds for a minute, trying to think clearly. “We should take you to a hospital.” He’s starving, wants to be greedy, but he needs to try to maintain the normal neighbour routine.

“No,” Charley replied immediately. “Mom can’t afford it, no hospital.” He puts his hand over Jerry’s, the contact electric to the vampire, taking over the application of pressure. “Is it… Is it that bad?”

Jerry smiles kindly, oozing concern. “Don’t know, kiddo. Seems like just your arm, really. You having any trouble breathing?” He presses lightly against Charley’s ribs through the t-shirt, watching his face for any signs of agony, feeling for a break.

“No, nothing major like that…” Strength is returning to him, his colour is rising back up, no longer as deathly pale.

Jerry shrugs, still pressing and rubbing the ribs, letting the heat from Charley’s skin warm him. “You’ll probably have a bunch of bruises, feel pretty sore for a while. I’m worried about that arm though, guy.” Charley rolls his head back on the arm of the couch, wincing whenever Jerry’s hand hits a tender spot, his eyes fluttering closed as he starts to come down from the high of terror. Watching his face, Jerry dips his hand down and grabs the hem of Charley’s shirt, lifting up to get a look at the damage here too; the boy barely moves in response. Blood loss and exhaustion.

Jerry starts pressing around Charley’s scrawny stomach the way a doctor might check for appendicitis. The reaction is minimal, so no organ damage he supposes.

That smell of blood, it’s soaking in the washcloths, going to waste, so heady and thick in the air. Jerry can’t control himself anymore, fuck it all he just can’t; he lets his hand slide further down, under the hem of Charley’s jeans, fingertips brushing the top of the kid’s underwear.

Charley starts, lifting his head and trying to sit up, but it’s too late now. Jerry pushes him back down on the couch and points his chin at the weeping injury. “Don’t let the pressure off, Charley.”

The maddening scent of blood is even stronger now, and Jerry realises that as Charley panics at the come-on, his heart beat is racing and forcing the wound to bleed even more.

Jerry feels his self control snap, can almost hear the sound of it in his head. It’s just too much. “Oh,” is all he can say, his higher thought processes are shutting down in favour of simple animal lust. He shoves Charley’s shirt all the way up and leans in, inhaling that fear and the smell of his deodorant, his soap, his hormones, before he begins to lick the boy clean of the remaining blood.

“Hey, no,” Charley gasps. He’s clearly too scared of the extent of his injury to move his hand. “Jerry, man, I don’t- I’m not-“

Jerry grins wide, not his full shark smile yet, but his fangs are clearly showing, his eyes so dark it’s like the night sky. His face shows laughter despite the monstrous features. “It’s okay, sport,” he says, panting, “it’ll be our secret.”

The look on Charley’s face is so priceless. Jerry wishes he could have a wall of nothing but photos of people realising the truth. That disbelief, that refusal to really register what the fuck they’re seeing, oh it’s too good. So fresh every single time.

Finally, fearing a more immediate danger than slow blood loss, Charley drops the washcloth and tries to get up, but Jerry is just so much faster. It’s not even a contest, really. Grabbing Brewster’s busted arm, Jerry yanks the off-balance boy to him, sending him stumbling and crashing right into Jerry’s lap. It’s too much, really just too perfect. As Jerry roughly lifts that wound up to his mouth, Charley screams, a shrill keening of agony and unabated terror.

Clamping his mouth on the injury, Jerry’s dick surges to attention as the blood makes it’s way down there. At once sweet and bitter and salty, the blood overwhelms his every sense and he bites down, opening fresh over top of the original. More blood comes now, spilling from the side of Jerry’s mouth. He wraps his other arm around the flailing boy’s chest and shoulders, pressing them chest to chest, but Charley keeps fighting, now kicking so hard it sends them tumbling back to the floor.

Charley’s leg is between Jerry’s thighs and, without even being aware of it, he starts to grind against the kid’s thigh and hip. The boy is yelling still, completely inarticulate now, half-words and lots of primitive screaming, and an absolute overabundance of the word no. It’s Jerry’s favourite word, and this kid has a lot of spirit despite his exhaustion and weakness.

It feels too soon and somehow like an eternity when Jerry finally stops sucking. He has absolutely no desire to kill Charley, he likes this kid, noticed him when he first walked up to get introduced. Trying to act so clever, so smooth, wanting to hide how awkward he is. Charming and eager for male approval, making the refusal now all the more delicious.

Still holding tight around Charley, Jerry starts to work furiously at the fly of his jeans, barely able to keep from cumming just from the friction.

His dick free, Jerry grabs at Charley’s hand, the injury making it even weaker, more pliable, and puts it around his erection. “Stop fighting me, Charley,” he whispers against the boy’s cheek, nuzzling his soft skin and silky hair. “You already know what I can do if you don’t behave.” The hand around his dick is just resting there, so he tightens his own clawed fingers around it, making a fist. “You know what to do, don’t you, guy? You’ve done it before. On yourself, I bet.” Just thinking about Charley jerking off makes Jerry’s head spin a little. That’d be a hot sight. For a minute he indulges his imagination, seeing Charley jerking off while staring out the window at him… Too good. “Tell me,” he whispers, “tell me what you do.”

Charley tries again to pull away, defiant to the last. “Fuck you!”

Slowly, drawing it out, Jerry starts to move the boy’s hand up and down his shaft, already leaking precum. “Charley, Charley, Charley,” he sighs, liking the name in his mouth. “Look, if you play nice, maybe I’ll let you go, huh? Or at least, I’ll promise not to hurt dear little mom, how about that. She’s awful eager, I could smell it on her. Or your girlfriend, Amy?” Charley goes deathly still in his arms, his entire body clenched. Blood from his injury is leaking onto Jerry’s chest, starting to pool there, driving him wild. “Maybe you’d like that? Wanna share? You and and me and that pretty Amy? I think I’d like that, I’d like that an awful lot, Charley.” He starts to quicken the pace of the stroking, tightening the pressure a little, knowing he’s hurting the kid’s hand. “Or,” he whispers, “it can be just you and me, champ.” He laughs abruptly, a dry sniggering, because he can feel a stirring in the groin pressed against his stomach. “Just us, guy, and we’ll never tell anyone, will we? Because who knows who I might go after next, right?” There’s no response, so Jerry roughly pushes the boy’s head to one side with his own and buries his nose on Charley’s neck, sniffling deeply, letting the very tips of his fangs prick against the thin flesh there.

“Yes,” Charley finally says, panting. “Just please, not-“

“Shhh.” Jerry releases Charley completely, shoving him slightly so the boy tumbles off of him onto his back. As Jerry gets to his feet, Charley curls up on his side, cradling his injured arm, his breathing shallow and sharp.

“All right, now.” Jerry reached down and grabs a fistful of that curly hair, dragging him to his knees. “Let’s get to it, no more fucking around, huh?” Holding the boy’s head still, he grabs his dick and starts to rub it on Charley’s mouth. Shuddering, Brewster tries to pull his head away, his mouth tightening with disgust. Jerry’s lip curls in a snarl, he’s done playing games. “Open or I go find your mom to play with and make you watch.”

The absolute agony on Charley’s face when he finally opens his mouth, revealing that wet dark hole, it’s intense. There’s a battle of emotions going on inside of him, and Jerry drinks it up, loving it almost as much as he does the blood. He slides his cock in, taking his time, enjoying the way Charley’s teeth scrape along his length.

“That’s good, real good.” Jerry pumps his hips slightly. “You know what to do, though. Boy like you? You’ve watched enough porn, I know you have. You know what to do with your mouth.” Charley’s lips tighten around him and he opens wider, but that’s as far as the kid’s willing to concede.

That’s fine with Jerry, just fine, he can take it the rest of the way. As he grinds and pumps furiously, he intentionally gags Charley, liking the feel of the boy’s throat muscles constricting and the flood of saliva.

“Give me your hand,” he commands, arching his back forward. The hand is tentative, so Jerry grabs it and yanks it up to his mouth, letting his fangs sink into the meaty part of his palm. Jerry groans around the blood, close to cumming. But he hasn’t had enough yet, no, he wants more.

He releases Brewster, both his hand and his head, letting the boy flop back on his heels. Lowering himself onto the couch, Jerry motions for Charley to come over; the kid scoots closer, sliding on the floor, his reluctance coming off of him in waves. “Pants off,” Jerry says, licking the rest of the blood off of his lips.

With agonising shame, Charley stands and undoes his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. Jerry reaches out and grabs Charley, gathering him up and bringing him to sit on the couch between his thighs. It’s awkward with both of their jeans around their ankles, but they manage. Sure enough, Charley’s sporting a semi-erection, and Jerry laughs again, pleased.

“Fuck you,” Charley whimpers.

Jerry spits in his hand and reaches around, roughly grabbing the boy’s dick and starting to jerk it. Charley’s muscles tense and he pushes back against Jerry; the vampire’s spit-slicked cock presses against his lower back and he jumps again. “I don’t want this to be one-sided,” Jerry whispers in his ear. “See? You can feel good, too.” The dick in his hand is stiffening, thickening, and he buries his face in Charley’s hair, smiling against those soft curls. “Looks like it feels good, huh? You like that?” He wraps an arm around Charley’s waist and pulls him close, rubbing against his ass and tailbone. “Tell me, Charley. You know what I want.”

“G-” is all he manages to say at first, clearly overwhelmed. The sound is wet and explosive. “Good…”

“What’s that?”

Charley tilts his head back and Jerry accommodates, more than happy to bury his nose into the boy’s neck. “It’s good, please… It’s good…” He starts thrusting into Jerry’s fist, his body taut. “Please…” In response, Jerry grinds harder, feeling his own orgasm approaching. Just a little more. So close. “Please… Jerry..” Charley cums forcefully, his body practically jerking right out of Jerry’s arms. “Yes, yes, fuck, oh fuck…”

Jerry sinks his fangs in, knowing he shouldn’t considering the blood loss but unable to help it. And there is it, as the fresh new wave of hot blood spurts into his mouth, he cums, mashed up against Charley’s back, unable to breathe from the pleasure of it.

They both sit still, Jerry lapping at the puncture marks as they continue to trickle blood. Only when Charley shifts awkwardly does Jerry realise how uncomfortably sticky they both are.

Unceremoniously, he pushes Charley off of the couch. “Get dressed.” As Brewster swiftly pulls his jeans up, hands shaking, Jerry stretches out, unconcerned by his own nudity, enjoying it. “Bandage the arm tight, drink some OJ. Oh, and swing by after dusk tomorrow.” That predatory smile breaks out again and he crosses his arms behind his head. “I’ll be waiting.”


End file.
